I Believe
by Needs Moar York
Summary: In everything. Nothing at all. In between. Black and white, here and there, shades of grey. A series of ficlets featuring various Freelancers, for the 50 ficlets challenge on LJ.
1. Black and White

**A/N: I was bored and felt a bit stuck in my multi-chaps, so I decided to find some writing prompts on LJ. This is part of the "50 ficlets" challenge and I have written quite a few out of order, but I am OCD enough to want to post them in order. Lazy on the updates here, okay guys? **

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Things used to be so simple.

Black and white.

Right and wrong.

Good and evil.

Life and death.

A choice that she could make without thinking, a choice on pure instinct and adrenaline, her mind clear of all the feelings that got in the way. It was easier, not caring. Not hurting. Keeping her to herself and running before anyone could touch her. But he had. He had caught up and found all her vulnerabilities, turning them inside out, made her wear her heart on her sleeve for the first time in her life.

He had told her that he loved her. A temptation, calling her, holding her in a chain of smoke that she could not quite grasp, nor free herself from. So she had caved, given into the weakness she vowed she never would, believed she never could.

She had said it back. Against her fear, against every part of her telling her not to, her nerves electric and tense, waiting for the heartbreak she knew was inevitable but pretended it wasn't for the sake of the last lingering parts of sanity left.

And yet it was he who had lost his- the one whom she had tried so hard not to lean against but ended up doing so, the one who knew what she needed before she did. The one who had won her heart with the simplest gesture of all- being there when she least expected it, almost as if he could sense her moods and anxieties, wants and fears and desires all mixed into one.

But he had failed.

They both had.

It wasn't supposed to turn out this way, damn it! Her armor enhancement had been no accident- her protective shell was both physical and mental, and no one could get past it.

In theory.

But also in theory, she was the heartless one. The uncaring one. The Bitch with a capital B. More so than Tex, but Tex had an excuse of sorts. She had gotten her damned AI; she had run off to create God knows what kind of mayhem in her wake.

Oh how South envied her- unattached, free to come and go as pleased, no stupid brother to tag along, to be considered as one with.

Though they were far from one, and both of them knew that. Rather, they were an uneven three, with Theta always along for the ride whether South liked it or not.

She should have thought of it before Maine did. That drunken, idiot man-whore shouldn't have been the first to figure out that little secret; how to kill flawlessly and how to steal what was thought beyond the realm of ethics- the AI themselves, forever holding part of the mind of its former host, of gaining all the glory that she had so dreamed of.

Maybe because it was unattainable, forbidden, so wrong and yet so much more than she could ever ask for. She had seen the destruction; she had been the one who found Wash covered in blood, the life flickering out of his haunted blue eyes, wrists slit and body slackened.

The first time she had let the vulnerability show to anyone other than him and York, the first time she had cried without hiding it, the first time she had truly felt just as broken as he had become.

Dirt, sweat, tears- salty, pink, metallic, shaking. Bitterness in her mouth- bitterness of love, of loss, of anger and everything between. A bitterness she wasn't allowed to feel.

Bitter wouldn't win the war, now would it?

How many times had she been told that, how many times had she been lectured and forced to take it without protest, leaving her seething, burning inside out until all was darkness.

Black and white.

Goodness and light.

Truth and consequence.

Was it truly good, or truly evil?

With the bullet in his back, her words calm and collected, she knew it was neither. It was the cold steel grey of indifference that was the true lapse of everything she had once known.


	2. Me and You

**A/N: This prompt number two: Me and You.**

**Enjoy. :)  
**

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Was there ever a time when they had been together, truly and deeply?

Was there ever a time when he could look into her eyes and fully understand what was going on behind them?

Was there ever a time when she spoke and he would known exactly what she said?

But, in the end, did it matter?

Memory was the key- the phrase that ran over and over again in his mind.

But the key to what?

The only memories he saw in his mind burned, scarred, left him for dead on the inside, until he could feel nothing at all. Memories that weren't his; memories that he had come to know just as well no matter how hard he tried to forget. Memories that he hated with a fury that did him no good. Memories that he could never speak of- his pathetic, broken life depended on it.

Not that his life mattered much, he thought darkly.

The world he lived in didn't give much thought to longevity- death and life could be given or spared in a breath, an order, a choice, a bullet or bomb or pure bad luck. But Wash didn't believe in luck anymore- good or bad. It was just one long stretch of misery and disappointment until either yourself or some other bastard ended it for you.

And since he no longer had the choice for either, he could only keep going. But for what?

Vengeance was too easy. That had to be more than to this mess called life, right?

So he was forced to fall back on memory- the ones that had barely survived being tainted by Epsilon- hell, he was pretty sure even those ones were skewed, the last precious scraps of happiness he clung to more than he would ever like to admit.

Her hand in his, her smile, her laugh. Holding her close, her blonde curls tickling his nose slightly as she leaned in to kiss him. How she used to tremble when he kissed her neck- her weak point, however hard she tried to hide it.

Those brief, barely there moments of love- torn threads barely hanging onto life itself.

_Me and You. What happened to us, South? _


	3. Will Never Be

**A/N: This is more of a drabble than anything else, but it does fit within the ficlets' guidelines, so whatever. This is prompt number five- will never be. **

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"It was a mistake, York. It can never happen."

She had put my hands back on my lap with calculated gentleness- she had to have known. She had to have felt it, too, the spark that had started it all to begin with, the closeness that made us friends to begin with. More than friends.

How many times had she told me that lying was in the eyes? I had never gotten the hang out of it- and if it meant telling dumb knock-knock jokes to cover up my unease like Wyoming, I didn't need that. I didn't need her.

That was what I told myself when I put on my armor, grabbed my helmet, and escaped in the surrounding chaos of Tex and Omega.

"I don't need her," I said, and Delta merely shook his holographic head at me.

" Human emotion is foreign to me, York, but my sensors indicate that the increase in blood flow to the brain, heavier breathing and heart rate, and dilated pupils- the symptoms of deceit and not very effective deceit at that."

"Thanks, D," I muttered, well aware that sarcasm was not on his radar. "Retire now."

"Executing." Delta disappeared for the time being, though even without his strange yet comforting companionship I was never truly alone.

For part of me would forever live in what would never be.


End file.
